


Dick's Red Hood

by Redzik



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Batfamily Christmas Exchange 2017, Batman: Under The Red Hood AU, Gen or Pre-Slash, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 16:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13103925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redzik/pseuds/Redzik
Summary: Dick should just go back to Blüdhaven.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pentapus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentapus/gifts).



> Hi, pentapus, I hope this fic is at least a little of what you wanted. Merry Christmas!

Heavy clouds hung low above the Gotham City, covering the night sky completely and promising first proper downpour in a month, but for now it was just drizzling. The polluted air cleared a bit with the humidity and wet surfaces reflected the lights, making the city sparkle. It made Gotham look more beautiful and cleaner, than it actually was.

Red Hood paused now and again to admire the view, but didn’t linger for too long. He wanted to make it to his safe house in the suburban area of the city before it started raining for real. He was in a good mood after his encounter with Batman twenty minutes ago. Not only he fulfilled his goals for the night, but he also beat the Bat and successfully avoided him after. Now he had to lie low for a few days before he executed the next part of his plan.

Tall buildings gave way to smaller ones the closer Red Hood got to his destination and finally he found himself on the ground, crossing a small park. It was surprisingly empty; no suspicious activity, no unfortunate souls seeking shelter in the trees, nobody to beat up. Red Hood rolled his shoulders with a sigh. Perfect. He walked to the edge of the park and surveyed the houses.

They were mostly single-family houses, one story high with flat roofs, lined up neatly. The houses were in a pretty decent condition, though some were visibly more run down than the others. The backyards were well maintained, especially those on the edge of the estate; probably for the appearance purposes.

Red Hood didn’t fancy a stroll through the streets with his gear in full view to get to his house however, so he directed his steps to the last line and climbed on the roof. He carefully made his way deeper into the estate, quickly falling into a rhythm of jump, roll, run, jump across the rooftops. He made a decent progress when he heard a barely audible whimper. He instantly froze, on high alert, listening intently.

Was it some poor, lost animal in need of rescuing? Red Hood knew he didn’t have a stable life right now to afford to adopt a pet, but he wasn’t about to abandon the creature to the oncoming rain and cold.

A ribald laughter exploded in the house next to the one he stopped on. Red Hood cursed the men, as they probably drowned out the distressed sounds he was listening for. He dropped down to the ground to have a better chance at finding the source. The few houses around the one the laughter came from were empty, so it was piece of cake to search without disturbing anyone. However a quick look yielded no results, so Red Hood decided to check the other side. As he was crossing through the property, where a patch of grass was illuminated by light falling through the cracked little window in the basement, he heard one man say something that stopped him in his tracks.

“Not so mighty anymore, huh, Nightwing? Or should I say Officer Grayson?”

Followed by a hoarse scream which almost instantly turned into a hacking cough.

What the hell?! What was Dick doing here? He was supposed to be back in Blüdhaven, nursing his injured knee and staying out of the way of Red Hood’s operation.

“I have other ways to occupy your mouth,” another man sneered.

Shortly after Red Hood could hear gagging noises.

With growing dread he crept closer, crouching down to peer through the window. What he saw made his blood boil and caused the green haze of Lazarus Pit madness to appear at the edge of his vision. No one. No one deserved that. Not even his worst enemy. Well, maybe the Joker, but certainly not the Golden Boy. The man he once admired and cared for. Well, okay, maybe he still did, very deep down.

It was a fairly large garage. The car stood parked on one side, on the other side there was a small workshop with a table and various tools. On the table lied Dick Grayson in all of his naked glory. His hands were bound under the table, his body was littered with cuts and bruises. The Nightwing suit was in pieces, laying around here and there.

There were three men surrounding Dick, with their cocks pulled out. One was standing between Dick legs, moving rhythmically with harsh, quick jerks as he fucked him. Second was by his head, forcing his cock down Dick’s throat, making him choke. The third one was watching lustfully, stroking himself eagerly.

Jason forced himself to remain calm and examined the window. It was too small for him to fit through so he had to find some other way in, but he would be damned, if he let Dick suffer any longer than absolutely necessary. He pulled his gun from his holster and a silencer from his utility belt. He quickly put the silencer on, mentally apologizing to Dick for every second he wasted on preparation. He checked the ammo and cocked the gun. He took another look inside, to check where the men were and the best angles to get them without risking more damage to Nightwing. Two of them hadn’t moved, but the one in Dick leaned over him, grasping his hips, to get more leverage to push himself even harder and deeper into Dick’s body, prompting little pained noises from him. Yeah, the fucker was going to die first.

In one furious pull, Red Hood forced the window open and leaned in, squeezing the trigger.

The man at Nightwing’s lower body fell lifelessly on Dick, causing him to let out a muffled, agonized scream. Next was the one with his dick in Nightwing’s mouth. He fell to the floor, freeing Dick to gasp a lungful of air.

“What the...?” The third had the time to wonder at the sudden intrusion, before he too fell dead with a bullet in the head.

Red Hood waited for a few seconds to make sure they were dead for real and moved to find some entrance. The closest to him was the back of the house. There wasn’t any door he could see, but there was a balcony on the first floor, conveniently accessible by the crate supporting an ivy. He climbed up quickly, carefully slipping inside through the cracked sliding door. In just a few seconds he cleared the room he found himself in, closed the balcony and moved to do the same with others. It wouldn’t do for someone to catch him by surprise when he was busy with helping Dick.

Two more empty rooms and a bathroom and Red Hood took the stairs down with his pistol at the ready. The corridor was empty of any living soul, as was the living room, the toilet and the dining room, although the mountain of drug packets and booze left nothing to the imagination. It appeared Red Hood found the man working for Black Mask he was looking for by just stumbling onto him, who knew? Somehow Nightwing got caught by those dealers and was used for their entertainment. Red Hood secured the front door and walked to the kitchen, where he expected the entrance to the basement to be as he didn’t notice any way leading there in other rooms.

The kitchen was empty, but the door was open. The stairs inside creaked ominously under someone's careful footsteps as Red Hood crept closer to the open doorway.

“Uh, guys?” someone said uncertainly, nervously. “Why are you so quiet so suddenly? Guys? Wha-? Holy shit! What the fuck?!”

Shit!

Red Hood holstered his gun and lunged to catch the man. Utilizing all of his training to be fast and silent, in no time he was standing behind the stunned guy, looming over him like some kind of a monster from the horror movie.

The man turned slowly, sensing his presence. He swallowed hard and took a step back in fear at the sight of the masked vigilante.

Red Hood followed, a feral grin stretching on his face covered by red helmet as he reached for the man and snapped his neck. He watched with a dark satisfaction as the thug fell to the floor, joining his colleagues. With the thirst for revenge and murder somewhat satisfied, Red Hood moved onto more important things.

Dick seemed to be unconscious, but he still whimpered when Red Hood carefully removed the crappy piece of a human being off him. Now, that Red Hood could take a moment to examine him better, he discovered Dick was a complete mess.

Come and blood dripped from his torn, abused hole onto the table and then to the floor. His knee was swollen and a worrying shade of purple. His body was marred with dark bruises of varying lengths and sizes, mostly matching wrenches and other tools laying around. The blood from cuts was smeared with come all over him, some of the cuts were still bleeding sluggishly. His face wasn’t much better. Dick suffered a blow to the head, if the dried blood on his temple was any indication. He had split lips in several places as well and a black eye.

Red Hood ducked down to release Dick’s hands and discovered that he rubbed his wrists raw, trying to get the cuffs off. Under them was a small puddle of blood, coagulated, almost dried up. Dick had to be here for quite some time. Just how long? It was a shame nobody was left to answer questions. Gently, Red Hood removed the handcuffs and brought Dick’s hands up, resting them on his body. That prompted another whimper from his ex-not-so brother. Red Hood shushed him and pulled out his meager emergency supplies. He dressed Dick’s wrists, immobilized his leg and then examined him for other injuries. Dick flinched away from his probing fingers and Red Hood froze, looking up at his face. Dick’s eyes were closed with brows scrunched up in pain, but he remained unconscious so Red Hood continued. He was not pleased with what he found; on top of what Red Hood could already see, Dick had cracked a few ribs and definitely broken one. To take some of the edge of the anger creeping back in, he kicked viciously at the dead body closest to him. Feeling marginally calmer he looked around the shelves and drawers for something to cover Dick with. He found an old blanket, but it was scratchy and dirty and like hell Jason was going to wrap Dick up in that. He sighed, already mourning the loss and took of his jacket, tucking it in around Dick.

Now, for getting the hell out of here. Red Hood walked to the garage door and peaked outside. He could barely see through the rivers of water falling down from the sky. Red Hood cursed. There went the option of hauling Dick to his safe house and getting him some help. There was a car, but Black Mask was so paranoid, that he probably put a tracker on it. Still, it was his best bet. He rooted around for keys, finding them near the entrance on a hook. He opened the doors and got the car running to warm it up. With that done, he carefully eased Dick up to wrap the jacket around his shoulders and picked him. Gently he placed him in the back of the car and wrapped his legs in the blanket laying on the back seat. Red Hood got the garage doors open and sat behind the wheel. He pulled out his phone and called one of his lackeys to get some men to clean up the mess and prepare him another car, then he peeled off, heading back to the city.

But where should he go next? Dick needed medical attention Jason wasn’t able to provide. He as hell sure couldn’t take him to the Cave. And leaving Dick alone in some emergency room didn’t sit well with him either. Jason took a sharp turn, making up his mind. After he ditched the car, he would head for the only place the injured vigilante could go and seek medical attention in Gotham. Leslie Thompkins.


	2. Chapter 2

Leslie closed the last drawer with satisfaction of a job well done. She just finished cleaning and was ready to close the clinic for the night. Even vigilantes tended to be in beds at this hour, and those who weren’t, well she had on a good authority that they were benched for the time being. So when she turned around and found a tall, burly man with a bundle in his arms standing at the door, she couldn’t help but cry out in surprise. The man shifted, pulling whatever he was carrying closer protectively at the whimper that came out of the bundle. The initial shock over, Leslie took a closer look at her visitors, whom were dripping water on her freshly cleaned floor. The man was built similar to Batman, but was slightly smaller. The light reflected on his wet, red helmet and the gun he had in his hand under the covered knees of whoever he was holding.

“Red Hood,” Leslie acknowledged, slowly edging for the emergency beacon Bruce gave her in case she ever had any trouble. “What brings you here?”

“Don’t even think about it,” the man growled, meaningfully tilting the pistol just a bit and she froze. Red Hood took advantage of that and moved forward, gently, oh so carefully laying the bundle on the table and unwrapping the blankets.

Leslie instantly forgot about everything and focused on the injured boy before her.

“What happened?” she asked, snapping into the doctor mode and she started to examine the injured man.

Red Hood listed the injures in a monotonous voice. Or at least he sounded like that through the voice modulator built in his helmet. His body language told her another story. He was worried and furious, and if half the things she heard about him from her patients were true, the culprits were already dead. Not that she especially minded, she thought as she took care of Dick’s injures. The story of what happened to him was written all over his body and coupled with Hood’s verbal report it created a clear picture in her mind. Her heart broke at what Dick went through before Red Hood rescued him.

After a few hours, when Dick was cleaned and patched up - she didn’t hesitate to rope Red Hood into helping her and he came through perfectly, as if he was trained to do that - Leslie snapped latex gloves off her hands and threw them in the bin.

“Well, thank you for help,” she said before the man could disappear on her. “I’ll take things from here.”

“No,” Red Hood denied instantly.

“Excuse me?” Leslie blinked, stunned at the fact that he didn’t take the way out immediately as others before him did. Now she started to remember with whom exactly she was dealing with. The murderer and enemy of Batman. But it was hard to reconcile the rumors about the masked villain with the man before her. A man who offered gentle touches and soft words each time Dick stirred in pain or panic whenever he was conscious to do so. Or when he reached out secretly to check his pulse or breathing to reassure himself that Dick was still with them.

“I said no,” Red Hood repeated.

“Look,” Leslie said. “I really appreciate what you did, but I’m going to call...” she hesitated. Red Hood had brought Dick here, unmasked and naked save the blankets and leather jacket that had to belong to him. But she didn’t know who Red Hood thought he was rescuing, Dick Grayson or Nightwing. “His family,” she settled on.

Red Hood snorted.

“Bruce is the worst thing for him right now,” he stated. “You know how he is. He will go full Batman and be all: “Report!”, “Why did you let them do this?”, “You’re better than that” and all the shit. Do you really think Dick needs that? No. I’m taking him.”

Leslie swallowed down a retort. Bruce wouldn’t do that, but Batman could and probably would, like Red Hood said and no amount of interference from Tim or Alfred would stop him from interrogating Dick the second he was aware enough for a conversation.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I can’t let a stranger and a criminal with a grudge against Batman at that take him,” she said firmly.

Red Hood sighed, shoulders dropping with resignation and reached to pull his helmet off. She gasped, knees going week in shock.

“Then what about a brother?”


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Dick discovered after he woke up to voices talking was that he was incredibly thirsty. He tried to move or call out, but his mouth was dry like sand in the desert and the slightest twitch he managed was apparently enough for his body to let him know he was a one giant bruise. He opened his eyes with some effort, but his vision was too blurry to make much sense of what he was seeing. He didn’t know the room he was in, which immediately put him on edge. Where was he and what happened? He vaguely recognized shapes of the medical equipment next to him: some monitors, a tray with meds and tools, a stand with an IV line leading to his left arm. Immediately the place where the needle was going into his skin started to itch and he really wanted to rip it off, but his body felt heavy and lethargic and just wouldn’t listen to him, so he laid there, too weak to do anything but wait for someone to come check on him. He tuned into the voices instead.

“And you need to stop giving him sedatives,” the woman said sternly. Her voice was familiar and Dick relaxed slightly at that.

“I had to,” the second voice sounded like it belonged to a man, deep, growly and strangely soothing. Dick decided he liked it and would gladly listen to it for hours. “You know he would crawl out of here the second I wasn’t looking.”

“I know,” the woman sighed. Leslie, Dick suddenly realized. “But it ends now. I mean it. He’s healing nicely and there’s no reason to keep him sleeping.”

“I can think of a few,” the man grumbled.

“You not wanting to let him know who’s under the Red Hood’s mask is not a valid reason,” Leslie scolded.

Dick went cold. Red Hood? The man was the Red Hood? And Leslie was helping him? Keeping him sedated?

The feeling of betrayal and surge of adrenaline gave him enough energy to lift his upper body slightly and remove the needle from his arm. Then he fell back down, suddenly lightheaded and panted while the world darkened around the edges. Not his best idea, but at least he didn’t have drugs entering his system anymore.

“So you heard that, huh?” the man, the Red Hood, said next to him sounding amused.

Dick went rigid, looking up at him and trying to make out his features. He had black hair with a splash of white in it, was tall and had broad shoulders thick with muscles. He probably wouldn’t have any problems with fighting Dick off in his current state which made him panic even more.

“Relax idiot,” Red Hood sighed, shaking his head. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Dick went to say something but ended just coughing instead. He squeezed his eyes shut at the agony that ripped through his body because of that.

“Right,” Red Hood said and after a moment something touched his lips. Dick flinched away from it.

“It’s just a straw,” the man’s voice went all soft and gentle and Dick hated himself for letting it sooth him. “Water.”

Hesitantly he took the straw in his mouth and sucked gently to get a taste. Heavenly cool, fresh liquid filled his dry mouth and he threw caution to the wind, greedily sucking it more to relieve his parched throat.

“Slowly,” Red Hood directed. “It won’t go anywhere.”

Dick slowed down, no sense to make himself sick on top of everything, and Hood held the cup steady for him until Dick emptied it to the very last drop. It left him kind of wrong footed. He expected Red Hood to fight him, but the man was entirely different person than the one he met on Gotham streets just a night ago. Hopefully a night ago. How long Dick was unconscious? Why couldn’t he remember what happened to land him in Red Hood’s care?

“Hey,” Hood said quietly to get his attention. “It’s time for your medicine. I would let you do that, but I don’t think you would manage without hurting yourself all over again.”

“Medicine?” Dick rasped.

“Yeah,” Red Hood reached for a small jar on the tray. “An ointment.”

“Okay?” Dick blinked heavily at the huge blur next to the bed in confusion.

“It needs,” Red Hood cleared his throat, “needs to be put down… down there.”

“What?” Dick asked, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

“You know,” the man huffed. “Anus.”

“Oh,” Dick stiffened. He didn’t like that idea, at all, especially with the implications on why he needed that treatment in the first place.

“Hey, hey,” Red Hood said forcefully, gently brushing his cheek with tips of his fingers. “I’ll be quick. I promise. Nothing will happen to you.”

“I hate it,” Dick choked out.

“I know, I know,” Red Hood soothed. “But it needs to be done, okay?”

With a lump in his throat, Dick nodded. He couldn’t do anything anyway. He was completely at the mercy of the enemy again apparently. He watched, deciding that closing his eyes would be much worse, as Red Hood pulled the sheet covering him aside. Just enough to have room for whatever he was going to do. Dick’s breath picked up, dreadful of whatever was coming next. And then he felt warm fingers interlocking with his cold own ones and squeezing gently in support.

“It’s okay, Dick,” Red Hood said. “You’re okay. Nothing is happening. You’re fine.”

Dick nodded again, griping the offered hand hard. Red Hood’s other hand moved to the target. Dick held his breath as the cold salve met his sensitive skin. It was just a barely there brush that lasted just a few seconds but it was enough to throw him back to that night in the garage. Instead of a warm comfortable bed, he was laying on the cold hard table with hands bound and men surrounding him. Each of them took a few turns with him, playing their sick games and not paying attention to his pleads and cries.

“Dick!” a voice shouted and suddenly there were hands on his face and fingers curled in his hair hard enough to hurt and pull him back from the flashback.

Reality snapped back with clarity. For the first time since he woke up, Dick could see everything clearly. Like the face close to his own and greenish blue eyes wide with worry. Dick missed those eyes. They used to be more blue, but were still beautiful.

“Breathe!” Jason ordered and Dick sucked in a breath. “That’s it. Just breathe. In. Out.”

“It’s okay,” Red Hood droned on soothingly as he coached Dick through the breathing exercise until he calmed down from the panic attack. “You’re okay. Those fuckers won't hurt you anymore. You’re safe.”

Dick knew he would feel guilty later for that, but all he could feel now was relief at the implied fact that his attackers were dead. He reached for Jason and his little brother accommodated him, letting him cuddle into his strong chest and sob all his pain out. Eventually Dick cried himself to sleep.

A morning greeted him with cleared medical equipment, a tray of delicious food being placed before him and real, alive Jason Todd chattering at him.

Dick happily basked in his presence, everything taking backseat in the face of his brother being back from the dead. Until he decided to take a nap and nightmares came. Their conversations turned somber immediately after them.

It became routine for three days. Jason soothed and comforted him after he woke up screaming and crying, letting him cuddle into his side or holding his hand when Dick couldn’t stand the touch. Red Hood stayed with him all the time, only going out for groceries. They had ups and downs, but it was comfortable and Dick wished it stayed like that forever.

So of course it didn’t. On the fourth day since Dick woke and a week and a half since Red Hood found him and took him hostage, as Dick liked to tease him, Jason got a call. After it Jason became distant and lost some warmth from his expression. With a growing sense of foreboding, Dick tried to talk to Jason about it, but he insisted that everything was fine.

But it wasn’t fine. A feeling of doom bloomed in Dick’s stomach as his limbs grew heavy after his meal. Really, Jason could easily rival Alfred in the food department and Dick became addicted to anything made by Jason, so he shoveled everything into his mouth, no questions asked. He regretted it now as he was fading fast while Jason gathered his Red Hood gear.

“Jay,” he called weakly. He couldn’t let Jason go. He had a feeling he wouldn't see him again if he did.

Jason paused in checking his guns and walked to him. He threw the blanket over his prone body and placed something on the table next to the couch.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be safe,” Red Hood reassured. “It will sent your distress signal in a few hours and one of the Bats will come to collect you.”

So Jason wasn’t expecting to come back from whatever he had planned, too.

No. Just no.

“Jay,” Dick whispered.

A hand carded through his hair, a quiet ‘See you later, Dickie’ and Dick was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

As Jason promised, Dick woke up in the ‘Cave with Tim and Alfred hovering over him. It took some effort to assure them that he was fine and on the mend as his current health suggested and no the Red Hood didn’t hurt him at all before they left him to his own devices.

With them both absent, Dick hobbled to the Batcomputer and pulled up everything he could think of to help him find his wayward little brother. He stopped at the news displaying the situation on the bridge involving Joker and Black Mask and then Red Hood sweeping in and he suddenly knew where they were heading. His hunch was confirmed by the tracking signal from Batman. The feeling of doom returned stronger than before. He needed to get there fast. He jumped out of the chair and made his way to his motorcycle.

“Master Dick!” the disapproving exclamation from Alfred stopped Dick in his tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dick hunched into himself like a scolded child, but then he remembered why he was in such a hurry and he straightened, turning to face the butler with determination.

“I’m going there, Alfred,” he gestured in the general direction of the Batcomputer, where the coordinates were still displayed. “I won’t sit here while they… I need to be there for him.”

Alfred sighed long-suffering.

“Very well, then,” the butler allowed. “I’m coming with you and I’m driving.”

Dick smiled sheepishly.

“Yeah, I probably could use your help,” he admitted.

Bruce Wayne had many expensive, flashy cars, but in the far corner of the huge garage there were a few ordinary, inconspicuous cars. Alfred choose one of them for this trip not to draw too much attention. During the drive to the Crime Ally Dick fidgeted anxious to be at their destination already and do something to avoid the disaster in the making.

There was an explosion from the direction they were heading to. Alfred and Dick exchanged grim glances. Alfred slammed on the gas pedal, speeding up so much that they arrived at the ruins of the building merely a minute after the explosion. Alfred parked in an alley adjacent to the scene, out of sight of passersby.

Dick immediately jumped out of the car, hurriedly limping to the rubble and ducking out of sight of Batman. He squished the urge to storm up to the man and scream at him for bothering with the Joker while his son was somewhere there most likely needing help. He needed to find Jason, make sure he was okay and well taken care of, preferably far away from Batman, everything else could wait.

Eventually Dick found his little brother at the back of the building leaning heavily against the wall, barely standing straight.

“Jay!” he called, running up to him as fast as he could and ducked under his arm to help him stay upright.

Jason was a mess. Not counting the obvious emotional trauma, he had a deep cut on his neck, was covered in dust and going by the way he was holding himself he had a dislocated shoulder and a couple of broken ribs. Still, it didn’t stop him from berating Dick.

“What are you doing here?” Jason wheezed. “You should be resting!”

“I will,” Dick promised, grunting with effort as he hauled Jason away from the wall. “Come on.”

“You’re crazy,” Jason muttered, focusing his energy on staying mostly upright and walking.

They managed to cover a decent distance to the car before Alfred appeared before them.

“Master Jason,” the butler greeted warmly, eyeing the Red Hood with concern and tutted, “What have you done to yourself now, my boy?”

“Hi, Alfie,” Jason smiled tiredly.

“Master Dick, kindly remove yourself,” the butler ordered. “You shouldn’t strain yourself that much yet.”

“That’s what I said,” Jason grunted as Dick and Alfred exchanged positions. “He didn’t listen.”

“I’m fine,” Dick huffed hovering closely as they continued their trek.

Between the two of them they managed to get Jason into the car in no time. Dick squeezed himself into the back seat with Jason and started fussing over his wounds. Jason leaned back tiredly and let him.

“Take us to Leslie, please, Alfred,” Dick requested as the butler started the car. “And then we’ll head to Blüdhaven.”

Jason jerked his head up at that, his eyes flying open.

“What? No!” he protested.

“Yes,” Dick told him firmly. “You’re my hostage now.”

“Like hell,” Jason ground out, but with Dick pressed against his side, warm and real and here with him, he couldn’t bring himself to mind.


End file.
